


Butterflies Over White Violets

by kiwikakumei



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Mention of Master Attendant, its time for this duckie raft to have some content, ooh art talk ooh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 07:11:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19848157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwikakumei/pseuds/kiwikakumei
Summary: “Wanna know why white violets though, sweetheart?”Hotdog, Foie Gras, a museum visit, and the chance to unravel as many interpretations of their partnership together.





	Butterflies Over White Violets

It was perhaps a miracle how Hotdog was able to gain the attention of the elegant, dazzling, magnificent Foie Gras, and she would deem a miracle  _ over _ this one that Foie Gras had returned her feelings towards her.  


But Hotdog was a woman of the arts. Her interactions with her environment called for her to interpret the concrete and abstract ways to see everything. She was but a Food Soul who yearned to understand the world through the meta-cognitive understanding mind of an artist. Every instance she had to be able to express her understanding on canvas was a crucial step in her journey to embrace her ultimate goal: beauty.

Love was, to put it bluntly, a strange concept to comprehend.  


Since she laid her eyes on her, Foie Gras was Hotdog’s personal mystery for the artist to slowly unravel. Foie Gras held herself up in a regal way that had a story behind it, and Hotdog had been instantly hooked by her enigmatic presence.  


Slowly but surely, she was able to see the more defrosted side of Foie Gras, with her feathery eyelashes, her slender fingers, her smile that seemed to melt the most frigid of hearts if she let it. How Hotdog was constantly grateful to be able to sit near Foie Gras and experience these small instances firsthand, as if Foie Gras was saving these little motions exclusively for them. Hotdog would keep such encounters to herself, a selfish notion that she had picked up very quickly once they had learned to hold hands without the secrecy and placing kisses on top of reddened cheeks.

But again, Foie Gras was wrapped in a mystery that continued to baffle Hotdog.

Hotdog mentioned out of the blue, of the metal cuff with a broken chain link that was wrapped around one of Foie Gras’s ankles, a stark, cold contrast to her soft persona. As a reply, Foie Gras had slipped back into her imposing, frozen way of herself and Hotdog had immediately apologized for asking. It was yet another mystery that Hotdog found that she couldn’t solve without Foie Gras’s consent.  


It was a deeper, darker layer of Foie Gras that Hotdog would have to let the other ease into talking about in a future conversation. It was a vulnerability that the artist had to give grace over; once that vulnerability was accepted by Foie Gras, then perhaps Hotdog will hear of her story with as much acceptance as their blooming love for one another.

Just...not now.

\--

Hotdog’s Master Attendant had found an art museum in the heart of Hilena, and the artist naturally jumped on the chance to visit the establishment, hoping to observe the various talents of Gloriville and gain more knowledge on subjects she had yet to see.  


She had also been offered a chance to bring Foie Gras as well to this museum visit, on an impromptu ‘date’, as her Master Attendant had suggested. It would be a great opportunity to get closer to Foie Gras while also introducing the arts to her partner. Hopefully Foie Gras was prepared to listen to Hotdog’s constant gushing over the many art pieces they’ll see.

Once they had arrived, such behavior did surface, and to the relief of Hotdog, Foie Gras responded to such behavior with her serene, patient smile, asking for clarification about the meaning of certain pieces and often giggling softly at Hotdog’s non-stop ravings (especially the paintings and craggly looking sculptures).

They reached one certain wall, depicting a large painting of two cloaked figures, contrasting shadow and light. The taller, shadowy grim figure was dipping their smaller, ethereal partner in their arms in what looked like a tender embrace towards the grassy ground, laid out with many white violets, their figures bathed in bright butterflies.  


Hotdog was reminded of the old, powerful gods that resided in Master Attendant’s storybooks back home, only this painting was characterizing a more romantic sense with these figures. Or was it romantic? It could also look like the sweet embrace of death, or heartbreak, or sadness and happiness personified.  


Hotdog’s mind was buzzing happily with so many questions and speculations for this painting, and if she couldn’t grasp the painting’s meaning first thing, it had earned her attention and respect.

Meanwhile, Foie Gras was doing her own internal analysis of the painting, her face contorting into a frown. She had turned to Hotdog, her blue eyes holding questions needing some resolution.

_ “Are they in love?” _

_ “Well, it could look like that, yeah!” _

_ “Then, is the light figure trapped then…? In that black shadow’s love?” _

_ “Huh?” _

The blonde turned to look over the painting again, trying to solidify Foie Gras’s observation. Being trapped in love? Did Foie Gras see such a tragic topic?

Hotdg couldn’t help but glance down at the persistent shackle on her partner’s ankle, her stomach turning. Her own eyes couldn’t meet Foie Gras’s as she motioned to move forward towards the next painting.

She paused as Foie Gras was still trying to look at the painting and processing its hidden message, or whether said message was even existent.

_ “...They do look like they’re free though. The flowers. The butterflies. I think they look happy. I am happy for them.” _

At this, Hotdog couldn’t help but smile at her beloved partner, who looked the same way.

\--

As soon as they left the museum, Hotdog, with her arm woven around Foie Gras’s waist, suddenly perked up.

_ “Want me to get you some white violets at the nearby store down the road? It’ll be my gift for our first date! I’ll teach you how to press them into bookmarks, since I know you like reading a bunch!” _

_ “Ah, of course. Thank you for bringing me here, Hotdog.” _

The blond slipped away gently from the other woman, grinning.  _ “Wanna know why white violets though, sweetheart?” _

Foie Gras tilted her head in quiet confusion.  _ “Because of that painting?” _

Hotdog felt herself giggle, boldly going forward to kiss Foie Gras’s cheek and taking her by the hand to pull her towards the florist down the street.  _ “In the language of flowers, it means to take a chance on happiness!” _

And perhaps, that’s what they both will do.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ship foiedog, im begging you.
> 
> something quick i wrote up, partially to get over a block, and mainly to get my agenda out there.  
> thanks for reading.


End file.
